Alive
by Vodka Martini
Summary: Evidence comes to light that Jenny might still be alive, and despite his own doubts and hesitation, Jethro has to defy the odds and get her back before she's lost forever.
1. Chapter 1

Tony DiNozzo sat at his desk with the calm appearance of someone who was not at all fazed by the announcement just made by the newly appointed Director Vance. He, Ziva, and McGee had just been reassigned, all to separate areas. They wouldn't even be within visiting distance, with Ziva heading back to Israel and he himself being assigned as an agent afloat aboard an aircraft carrier. For about the eighth time he mentally kicked himself for turning down Jenny's offer a year before for his own team in Spain. If he had taken the promotion, he wouldn't be packing up his desk just now to move to a Navy ship in the middle of some ocean. Not to mention that if he had taken her offer, a different agent would have been assigned to protect Jenny at the funeral, and that different agent might have listened to Ziva and saved the Director's life, rather than allowing her to be gunned down as he had.

He ran a hand through his hair and tossed the contents of his top drawer into the box so graciously provided by Director Vance. He wondered what to do with the locked box of Gibbs' medals in his bottom drawer, and very nearly asked Gibbs himself, but the man had such a scowl on his face that Tony was actual speechless. Gibbs was very angrily typing up some report or another on his computer, and the ferocity with which his fingers connected with the keyboard almost made Tony feel sorry for the piece of technology.

He looked over at Ziva, not nearly as composed as she too packed up her desk in preparation to leave. He thought he might have heard her sniffle, but decided that it was definitely in his best interest not to ask. As he watched the pretty Mossad officer emptying the drawers of her belongings, he noticed the elevator doors open behind her. Immediately, the person stepping out of them had his immediate attention.

It was a woman. By Tony's guess she was in her late twenties. She stood about five foot eight, in the Puma brand sneakers that she wore. She had on a pair of light-coloured jeans that were slightly distressed on one knee and the opposite upper thigh, and a purple University tee that proclaimed her loyalty to Mustang Football. She had long, dark brown hair that flowed in loose, natural curls, and big brown eyes that displayed a combination of life and intelligence. Of course, what really captured Tony's attention was the way her jeans framed her cute butt and the way her chest strained slightly against the confines of the tee, and her slim athletic figure. She didn't even glance at him as she walked past his desk with deliberate strides.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," she said slowly, with the slightest hint of an accent that Tony couldn't quite identify. Montana, perhaps.

"Jo Markham," Gibbs responded, looking up and very nearly grinning as he saw her. "Only you could waltz into NCIS headquarters in jeans and a tee-shirt and not look out of place." He got up from the desk and met her in front of it.

"Takes a lot of practice. It's been a long time, Jethro," she grinned, kissing his cheek.

"Eight years," he answered, returning her gesture. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you played in the big leagues now?"

"I need to speak with you," she responded, seriously. "Privately. Is your usual conference room still available?"

Gibbs nodded and took her arm, leading her to the elevator. Ziva and Tony looked at each other the moment the doors closed, and they wore matching expressions; confusion.

"Do you think that since we are not his team anymore, that we can be curious about what is going on in there?" Ziva asked.

"You can feel curiosity," Tony decided, "But I wouldn't let Gibbs know about it if you want to make it back to Israel in one piece.

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"What is this about, Jo?" said Jethro, his usual attitude back in his voice.

"Jenny," she answered, leaning against the wall of the stalled elevator.

"Jenny's dead," he said sharply.

"I watch the news, Jethro," she tossed back. "I just thought you should see these." She pulled an envelope out of her back pocket and handed it to him. He stared at her a long moment before opening the envelope and pulling out a stack of photos. He sucked in an involuntary breath as he looked at the top one.

It was Jenny Sheppard, standing in a cell-like room that was dimly lit. Dirty bandages wrapped her upper left arm, and her right shoulder. She wore a hospital gown, covered in dirt and splotches of blood. Her hair was matted and filthy, and she had cuts on her forehead, a split lip, and one black eye. There were four photos. In three of them she was looking down or had her eyes closed, but in one her pretty blue eyes stared into the camera, looking scared and lost. Gibbs was at a loss for words.

"Are these doctored?" he asked, sharply.

"My techs say no," she answered, meeting his eyes.

"Where did you get these?"

"They came in this morning. Suspected terrorist cell on the West coast."

"They're claiming she's alive?"

"Yup."

"What's the ransom demand? What do they want?" he was right in her space now, inches from her face, desperate.

"They made no demands. It seems they want nothing from the U.S. government."

"That doesn't make sense. Even if Jenny were still alive, why would they send these to you if they're not making ransom demands?" he asked.

"I didn't say they sent them to us. I said they came in this morning. They were picked up on chatter. It seems this particular cell is holding an auction."

"What is for sale?" he asked.

"Jenny. To the highest bidder."

"What? Why? Who would want to buy her when she's not up for ransom?" he asked, almost daring to hope that his Jenny actually could be alive, despite knowing different.

"She's the director of a federal agency, Gibbs. Or at least she was. She knew all kinds of classified information. If she were still alive, they could auction her off to any number of people or agencies internationally. She'd be tortured for information, and this terrorist cell would have funding for whatever op they're planning right here in the United States," Jo said, meeting his glare with a fierce determination of her own.

"That would almost be plausible," he admitted after a moment. "But since she knows so much, wouldn't we be prepared to top any high bid anyway, to keep our secrets out of enemy hands?"

"And that may be their plan. But I doubt it. In case you've forgotten, we don't negotiate with terrorists."

"It really doesn't matter anyway. Jen's dead. My people found her body, Ducky did the autopsy, and I was at her funeral."

"Did you see her body?" Jo asked.

"I didn't want to see her like that, Joanna," he admitted, sounding defeated.

"You loved her," Jo answered softly, staring at the floor.

"A lot of things have changed since we worked together in Paris."

"I know, Jethro. She left. I was there, I remember. But that doesn't change anything, does it?" she asked.

"Maybe not, but her being dead sure does," he said with finality, bringing the elevator to life again. Jo reached out and pressed the emergency stop again.

"Hear me out, Jethro. My team ran every possible test on those photos, and we had the digital originals to go by! They weren't doctored by any traceable program. And I saw the original scene report from L.A.; these wounds match exactly where she was shot. No one else had access to this information, Jethro. The only copy of that report ever made is under lock and key in the Pentagon. Only a handful of 

people have read it. If you haven't seen her body, how can you really be sure that these pictures aren't of Jenny?"

"Because I refuse to believe that she's been suffering there the last two weeks while we've been mourning her death. If the body downstairs wasn't hers, Ducky would have told me."

"Maybe. But I think it warrants a conversation with Dr. Mallard. If there is something weird going on, do you really want to leave her there?" Jo asked, meeting his fierce blue eyes with a challenge. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before pressing the button and allowing the elevator to shudder back to life. Jo stayed silent, but a grim smile spread across her face as he selected the floor that would take them to Autopsy.


	2. Chapter 2

"Palmer," Gibbs barked as he strode purposefully into Autopsy. "Get out."

"Well, I..." Jimmy stuttered, looking between Gibbs, Jo, and Ducky as he still held the needle he'd been using to sew up the latest autopsy subject. Gibbs stopped and gave him his famous stare, and Palmer swallowed and hurried out of the room without another noise.

"Now really Jethro," Ducky started, "I know we're all on edge after the news of the team splitting up, but there's no reason to be hostile with the remaining help."

"I need to talk to you, Dr. Mallard," Gibbs barked, crossing the room to the desk at which the old doctor sat filling out the report that went with the body.

"Well I guessed as much. Good to see you, Joanna. As usual you look lovely," Ducky said amicably.

"Thank you Doctor. You're dashing as ever yourself," Jo responded with a smile.

"Thank you, my dear," Ducky answered with a warm smile. "Now, Jethro, what can I do for you?"

"You can tell me the truth, Duck. About Jenny," he barked, glaring down at Ducky.

"Whatever do you mean? Jennifer was the unfortunate victim of circumstance, and I don't think it is necessary to belittle her memory by continuing to discuss a closed case."

"Her body, Ducky. Was it her?"

"Jethro, who else would it be?"

"You tell me, Doctor. Because judging by these photos it wasn't Jen," Jethro barked, tossing the pile down on the desk in front of Ducky. The Englishman took a long look at the photos and sighed deeply.

"Oh dear," he said. "Director Vance had the remains of a young Jane Doe sent to me for autopsy. He told me to sign off that it was indeed Director Sheppard, and he gave me all of the details to put on her autopsy report about the fire. He said that the autopsy of the Director herself would be handled by a special investigation into her death, that was top level clearance in the Pentagon. He ordered me to tell no one of the deception, and I assumed that since Tony and Ziva discovered her dead, that it wasn't important."

"Well I can't explain Tony and Ziva, Ducky, but I can tell you that your assumption was incorrect," Gibbs hissed.

"Clearly," Ducky answered heavily.

"Doctor, I can say with certainty that no such investigation was held by the Pentagon. Only four of us even know the truth behind her death. The staff of the Pentagon, as well as the public, are certain that Director Sheppard was the unfortunate victim of arson," Jo said.

"Well I certainly apologize Jethro. Had I had any reason to think that Jennifer might still be alive, I would have told you immediately. I'm afraid I trusted Tony's word on her death rather than my own observations."

"Don't apologize to me, Doctor," Jethro said, turning on his heels and heading toward the door. "Save it for if Jenny has actually been in that hell-hole the last two weeks because we didn't know we should be looking for her."

"Oh dear," Ducky mumbled to himself. "I'm not sure if I should hope that she's alive or not. And I do believe I've pushed my friendship with Jethro beyond the breaking point this time."

"Maybe, Doctor," Jo said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before following after Gibbs at a jog.

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Gibbs entered the squad room practically at a run. He made it to his desk and grabbed his sig out of the top drawer, along with the two extra cartridges and his NCIS identification. Even though he wouldn't be acting in an official capacity, the ID would get his weapon through airport security. He didn't even acknowledge the stares from Tony, Ziva, and McGee as he rejoined Jo at the elevator and hauled ass for the exit.

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"I forgot how crazy of a driver you are, Jethro," Jo remarked, gripping the handle on the passenger side door of Gibbs' sedan. She got no response. "What exactly is your plan here, Jethro?"

"Go to LA. If my driving is too crazy for you, I can drop you off here. Otherwise, I could use your gun," he said. "And your help."

"You've got it," she said, without question. "I can't stand the thought of her in there either. Don't you think this would be easier with help from NCIS?"

"We can't do this one in an official capacity, Jo," he said, ignoring angry horns from other drivers. "If Vance is behind this, which seems likely given the autopsy cover-up, then he'll never allow us to find her. He'd alert the cell before we could get that far."

"Maybe so, but what about your team?" she asked.

"They're not my team anymore. They've been reassigned. And if they all up and disappeared the instead of reporting to their new assignments, it would raise suspicion."

"As opposed to you just up and disappearing, which is completely natural," she said with sarcasm.

"Leonard will assume that I'm sulking in a glass of bourbon over the loss of Jen and my team. He might even think I've gone back to Mexico. I doubt that he'll realise what's really going on."

"And just what is going on?" Jo questioned, as they pulled into a marine airstrip just outside DC.

"I told you, we're going to LA. I called in a favour from an old transport pilot buddy. He's going to fly us there with his cargo run, no questions asked and no records kept," Gibbs answered, climbing out of the vehicle.

"Convenient," Jo said to an empty car, before sighing and following him onto the dark airstrip. As much as she hoped that Jenny hadn't really been suffering torture the past weeks, she also hoped that she wasn't raising Gibbs' hopes for nothing.

A.N. Please review! If ya'll think I'm just out to lunch then I may as well quit now! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Jenny awoke to the same dimly lit room she'd found herself in since before she could remember. It had to be a basement, she'd decided, judging by the situation of the only grimy window in her make-shift prison. The room was cool and damp, leading her to develop an incessant cough that wracked her body until it ached. Of course, she always ached. She could barely recall that day in the restaurant; her showdown with the gunman and Mike running off to leave her dying on the floor. The last thing she could remember were the sounds of gunshots from Franks' gun as he finished off the men she'd injured. After that, her memory was of nothing more than darkness and pain.

Her next memory was of waking up in the back of an ambulance, the stench of her own blood mixed with the sickeningly sterile aroma of the vehicle. They had removed the bullets and stitched her up, and they had anesthetised her almost as soon as they knew she was awake. She'd gone back to sleep safe in the assumption that she would awake in a hospital bed with Jethro at her side, looking angry but relieved.

What she'd gotten, instead, was this little room. She lay on a small cot with one wool blanket, and a small door led to an even smaller washroom, although she could barely make it there. The blanket and the thin cotton gown she wore were hardly enough to keep out the chill of the room, and she shivered all the time. At first, she'd lay in the darkness, trying to avoid the pain of her shoulder and arm, and just simply wished herself out of the situation. She knew that Jethro could only be a few hours away from finding her. She had no idea how many days had passed while she simply held onto this hope.

Finally, she'd decided to at least attempt to be proactive. She'd learned the faces of the two men who had been guarding her and bringing her meals. She couldn't identify their nationality, since they rarely spoke to her, but a few days ago they'd come in with a third man and taken her picture, speaking to each other in what sounded to her like some variation on the Persian language. That wasn't uncommon for the Middle-Eastern countries, so she wasn't surprised. Unfortunately, she didn't understand any of what they said, and they never directed their conversation to her.

At this point, she had no idea how long she'd been here. It could have been weeks, or even months. Her universe included only this one room, the dim bulb hanging from the ceiling in the corner, and the dull pain that throbbed constantly where she'd been shot. She only wished she knew what they were planning on doing to her. And still, in the back of her mind, she hadn't given up hope that Jethro was out there looking for her.

A.N. Short one there guys. I'm doing this in stages...so anyway keep on my ass and hopefully you'll get regular updates! I've really been slacking lately in the writing department. My horse is just really high maintenance! -S


	4. Chapter 4

Jo Markham was riding her pretty chestnut mare bareback across a field of daisies when Jethro took her by the shoulders and shook her awake. She looked at him curiously for a moment before remembering just where she was. By the time she stood and grabbed her bag, Jethro was already heading down the plane stairs onto the runway.

"Gibbs, I know you're trying to figure out what the hell is going on here, but do you really have to pull the Terminator impersonation at the same time?" she asked, breathless, as she caught up to him. "I mean, everybody loves the strong silent type, but you're taking this to the extreme."

Gibbs spun on his heels and met her eyes in a fearful expression that he had never before turned on Jo, and it stopped her in her tracks.

"Listen to me, Joanna, because I won't be explaining myself to you the rest of the trip. I lost Jenny in Paris, which I always regretted and never quite got over. Two weeks ago, I lost my chance of getting her back forever. If there is even a hope in hell that I could see the woman I love again, I'm going to take that chance. And I'm not going to waste even a minute until I've exhausted all possibilities."

"I understand that, Jethro," Jo responded, not losing her cool even under his wrathful scrutiny. "Why do you think I brought you these photos in the first place? But if I'm going to be working with you on this, it won't do you any good to keep things from me. I need to know what your plan is."

"You're right," he finally muttered, sighing. "I'm sorry, Jo, I don't mean to be angry with you, it's just that I'm furious with myself for letting her suffer all this time while I wasn't even looking for her."

"I know, Jethro, and we're going to do everything we can to get her back soon. But as your partner, I have to suggest that you assume Jen is still dead until we get some definitive proof otherwise."

"I know her, Jo. Her eyes in that photograph..."

Jo stared at Gibbs. She had never been scared by his blustering anger or his gruff manner, but seeing him standing here before her looking so lost and defeated terrified her. She offered up a prayer to whatever Gods were listening that they would finally cut this man some slack and give him back the woman that he loved. Even after all he'd been through, he was still holding onto hope that he might find happiness again. And he certainly deserved it.

"Okay, then we need to work fast," she said. "Because the bidding closes tonight at 6 pm. So what's your plan, Jethro?"

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"Well hello, beautiful," a heavily accented voice jarred Jenny from a particularly pleasant daydream. She'd been reminiscing about Paris; a day curled up in Jethro's arms as a thunderstorm had raged outside their hotel room. She looked up to find two dark eyes peering through a hole in her "cell" door, and this realisation was coupled with fear as she heard the sound of the key turning in the doorknob. Jenny was sitting on the floor, her knees pulled against her chest and her back against the side of her cot. She rose slowly and backed away as the door creaked open and one of her guardsman entered the room.

"What do you want?" she hissed, nearly frantic with fear. Besides taking the photographs and dropping off her meals, none of them had ever entered her room. She didn't know what this guy wanted, but judging by the look in his eyes she could come up with a pretty good guess. With her two injured arms she would be nearly helpless to stop him. He strode across the room unhurriedly. He was inches from her when movement at the door caught her attention.

"Stop," ordered another voice, this one only slightly accented. This man was taller, clean-shaven and with a close-cropped haircut. He seemed much more refined than the one in front of her. "You know our orders. She's not to be harmed."

"What difference will it make?" the one in front of her asked, not taking his eyes off her breasts, bare beneath the hospital gown. "I won't hurt her pretty little mouth. She'll still be able to tell all the secrets."

"We don't get to pick which parts of the order we follow. No one wants to pay for damaged goods. We don't touch her. And the next time I see you in here with her I'll shoot you myself."

The shorter man grumbled something in his own language that Jenny was certain couldn't have been polite and then retraced his steps back outside of her room. Her back against the wall, she slowly sank down into a sitting position again and started to cry.

"Don't worry," the taller one said softly, squatting near the door and looking over at her. "Here you will not be hurt."

"What did you mean pay for damaged goods? What are you doing with me?" she sobbed. He regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and regret.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. I wish it weren't like this. You are much too pretty to be caught up in this nightmare. But you don't fool me with your tears. After your performance at the diner I know you are tougher than you appear," he said.

"Not with two useless arms. And that didn't answer my question. Why am I here? What are you doing with me?" she nearly yelled in frustration. He chuckled.

"I am sorry for upsetting you, Jennifer. We were not properly introduced. I am Ahmad. You don't need to know who we represent, but I suppose it is only fair that you know your own fate. I often 

envy the suicide bombers that luxury; knowing their fate so intimately. In any case, you've been put up for auction," he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Auction? Like...like...as some sort of a slave?"

"No. Not a slave. You would not be much use as a slave. Too proud and insolent. I suppose someone could break you of that, although it might kill you first. As it is, you are too important politically to let you go. We will sell you to whichever foreign agency will pay the most for you. I would imagine somewhere in the Middle East. They will want to learn all the government secrets you have. They can be very...persuasive."

"Torture," she said sharply. The very thought at the same time sent shivers down her spine and hardened her exterior. "You're selling me to someone better equipped to torture information out of me."

"Better equipped? No. I'm sure we could manage it if we wanted information from you," he laughed.

"You'd be surprised," she threw back. His arrogance had sparked a bit of her red-headed temper, and the old Jenny was nearly back.

"I'm sure I would," he laughed. "In truth, you have no information that we want. But selling you to someone who does want your secrets will finance our operation for some time. It was very lucky for us that you were placed into our laps, Jenny Shepherd," he said, standing.

"The pleasure is all mine," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as he laughed again, stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Her shoulders slumped and she slid back against the wall, her exhaustion once again taking over where her adrenaline had just been functioning. She leaned her head back against the wall with a sigh, closing her eyes in an attempt to stem the tears that threatened to fall again.

"God Jethro, if you're out there, please hurry," she whispered into the darkness.

A.N. Thanks for your reviews so far guys! If you see anything that needs fixing, even posted chapters are a work-in-progress so please let me know! Also...I could perhaps use a Beta for this story if anybody is interested. :D

Thanks!

-S


	5. Chapter 5

"So, exactly what are you planning to learn from the morgue attendant?" Jo asked as she and Jethro stood in a cramped elevator that was taking them into the depths of the little hospital in district of LA that had responded to Tony's 911 and had received Jenny's body.

"I'm not sure, exactly. I'll get the logs from both her arrival and departure dates, I want to know exactly what happened with this body swap," Gibbs explained, his attitude slightly lighter, but no less rushed, than earlier.

"Okay, but no flashing that NCIS badge, I'll do the talking," Jo declared. She saw in Jethro's eyes that he was sceptical about the idea, but she figured he would go along with it as long as she asked the right questions.

The elevator doors slid open to leave them face-to-face with a pudgy, balding morgue attendant who's nametag identified him as Peter.

"Hi!" the man exclaimed, looking much too excited considering his job. "What can I do for you folks today?"

"Hello, Peter," Jo said, matching his grin and flashing her government identification. "My name is Joanna Markham."

"Please, Pete," Pete responded, his smile broadening as he studied her identification. "What can we do for the American Government?"

"I'm looking for your logs for two specific days," Jo said, giving him the dates. He agreeably headed around a corner, where Jo could hear the sound of a filing cabinet drawer sliding open on a rusty track.

"That guy has had way too much coffee today," Jo whispered to Jethro under her breath. He mumbled his agreement, and something that sounded like a derogatory comment aimed toward the man as well. She managed to shoot a glare at him just before Pete came back around the corner, files in hand.

"I think these are the days you're looking for," Pete said, dropping them lightly on the counter in front of Jo. "If there's anything else you need, just shout." Pete wisely chose to leave the two of them alone with the folders.

"Here she is, picked up by military escort to be returned to NCIS headquarters," Jo announced, studying the log page. "Under Jenny Shepherd."

"She's not on the log page at all for the day of the shooting," Gibbs said in confusion.

"Pete," Jo called, "Can we see the file on this Jenny Shepherd, this case number 248741?"

"Sure thing!" a voice called, and again they heard footsteps followed by a creaking of the drawer again. Pete came around the corner again with the same goofy grin. "I remember this girl. Real pretty. Brought in as the victim of a hit and run about a month ago. Unidentified. She was supposed to go for public burial on the county's dime just two days after her checkout, but she finally was claimed."

"Is there any way to tell who made the ID?" Jo asked.

"Sure!" Pete exclaimed, opening up the file to take a look. "Leonard Vance is listed as the identifying party. Jenny Shepherd. Arranged for her body to be picked up the next day."

"Thanks Pete, you were a big help," said Jo, smiling sweetly at him and pushing the button for the elevator again. Once they were safely behind closed doors again, she looked over at Jethro.

"Well," she said, "I think you got your smoking gun there. What a bastard. Right there on paper, him identifying some random girl as Jenny. Didn't even have the dignity to change his name."

"Bastard never figured on being caught," Jethro responded, at a growl. "But when I get my hands on him..."

"Gibbs," Jo warned, "How about we just focus on getting Jenny back before we worry about Vance. So we know that she was never brought to the hospital. Vance must have intercepted the ambulance and sent in his own guys to pose as EMTs."

"DiNozzo is going to get his ass kicked too," Gibbs growled. "He confirmed her dead, and then released her body to EMT's who didn't even have ID."

"You don't know that, Jethro. They might have had very convincing ID. Especially with Tony in those circumstances. And again, let's save our anger for those bastards who are holding Jen."

"Don't worry, they'll get their fair share of my anger," Jethro muttered, slipping behind the wheel of the rented sedan again.

"Where to now, Jethro?" asked Jo.

"Now we make a little call to a friend of mine. An agent that used to be on my team who was transferred to the IT department. You know, just a friendly phone call to catch up," Gibbs responded, wheeling out into traffic amid a cacophony of car horns. Jo grasped the handle on the side of her door and closed her eyes, willing them safely to the motel room they'd rented.

"And what are you going to "catch up" with Tim about after only 2 days?" Jo asked, anxious to be let in on the plan.

"I thought I would have to trace a certain director's phone calls to find out who he was talking to that day. He had to have called somebody to come pick up Jen," Gibbs answered.

"I've got a better idea. Anything Tim does in your IT department can be potentially monitored by NCIS. Let me call my tech guy, the one who caught these photos of Jenny in the first place. We won't have to bring anyone else in on what we were looking for, and not even Director Vance has access to the Pentagon's special operations files. I can have my guy bury that so deep not even the President can get a hold of the information."

"I like the way you think," Gibbs agreed half-heartedly.

"Jethro," Jo whispered, placing a hand on his arm. "We'll find her."


	6. Chapter 6

"That was Brad," Jo said, snapping shut her cell and tossing it neatly into her bag on the bed.

"Brad?" Jethro responded, incredulously. "The tech guy has a name?"

"Of course the tech guy has a name," Jo responded, not bothering to keep her annoyance out of her voice.

"So," Jethro prodded, "What did _Brad _say?"

"He was able to trace Director Vance's cell phone calls for the day. Two were made before Tony called in the scene, one was made to you, and another to his office. The only one that couldn't be readily accounted for was a call made to a disposable cell phone. He made one other call to the same number, three days later," Jo explained.

"So who was he calling?" Gibbs asked, already strapping on his gun and grabbing the car keys, along with some extra cartridges.

"No way to tell. But _Brad_ was able to nail the location of the cell for the second call. I assume that Vance called to make sure everything had gone smoothly, once they were already at the holding location," she said, following suit with her own weapon, and tying her long brown hair back in a ponytail.

"He was able to narrow it down to a cell tower?" Gibbs asked, hopefully.

"Oh please Jethro, we're a little more high tech than that when the pentagon calls in favours," she scoffed, grabbing the keys off the dresser and heading out the door.

"GPS co-ordinates?" Jethro yelled out after her.

"Better!" she tossed back, over her shoulder. "Got an address! You coming or what?"

Jethro stood shocked for a second at the resourcefulness of the woman who had become his partner the past few days, before the sound of the car horn jerked him out of his reverie and he followed her at a run. For once, he didn't even argue about the driving arrangements.

A/N: Okay, I know, another short chapter, I suck. BUT I find that if I do short ones than you get them a lot faster, whereas if I try to write longer ones it takes forever (which is why today is my first time updating in MONTHS). Anywho, I have the rest of the story pretty much planned out, it's just getting it from my mind onto paper, and dealing with any contingencies that pop up. Reviews are excellent! Thanks guys!


	7. Chapter 7

Jo nodded and motioned to Jethro, urging him through the front door of the darkened house that Brad's address had led them to. It was a run-down house on the outskirts of Los Angeles, and it sat on a couple of acres of property, conveniently away from the prying eyes of neighbours. No doubt that in a couple of years, with the growth of the city, the property would be worth a small fortune, but for now it was a convenient base camp. They'd done a quick search of the outside, and found that this was the only door. Jo's sig felt cold and hard against her palm, and the familiar feel and weight of it was comforting. It had been quite a while since she had held it in a situation which might require that she use it against another human being, and the thought shot a rush of adrenaline through her as she followed Jethro silently, at his signal, into the darkened building.

Gibbs flicked on a light, and they found themselves in a short hallway that ran about 6 yards, branching at 90 degree angles to the left and right. Not being able to see around the corners, however, Jo and Gibbs found themselves staring at nothing but a faded yellow wall. They were about to rush forward to clear the next area when a pair of armed men came around the corner. With only a single shot each, Gibbs and Jo left the two men dead on the floor, with bullet wounds to the forehead.

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Ahmad burst through the door of Jenny's cell only moments after she heard gunshots. He didn't waste any time in crossing the room to her and tying a gag around her mouth, pressing a sweet-smelling rag to her nose. She felt herself becoming light-headed, and realised too late that the aroma was that of chloroform. The last thing she knew before she passed out completely was being lifted onto a pair of strong shoulders and carried out the door of her cell.

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Jethro slammed his elbow into his attacker's jaw at the same moment as Jo dispatched hers with the butt of her sig into his temple. She pointed to the door behind Jethro.

"Basement," she mouthed, though she was sure the entire house was more than aware of their presence at this point. Gibbs loaded a new cartridge in his gun, and Jo followed suit, preparing to meet a firestorm upon entering the lower level of the house. Seven guards had come up against them on the main floor, but Gibbs was certain that was nowhere near all of them.

Jethro nodded, easing the door open and allowing Jo to peek around the threshold and down the stairs.

"Clear", she announced softly. She kept her gun trained on the room behind them while Jethro inched down the stairs into a cold, damp area.

The basement consisted of a goof sized room with a small table and three mismatched chairs flanking one wall. Two doors opened up from the main room, and the one nearest them was hanging wide open. The whole area stunk of mildew and mold, and Jo shivered as she felt the draft in the room. Before she could so much as confirm with Jethro that the room was, in fact, clear, he burst through the nearest open door without caution.

Gibbs was horrified when he saw the condition of the makeshift cell. It was damp and drafty, and mold lined the walls. A tattered and bloodied hospital gown lay on the cement floor beside a cheap cot, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw black mascara streaks on the thin pillow and realised that his Jenny had been crying.

"Jethro!" called Jo from the room behind the second door. He ran in behind her to find himself in an operations center of sorts. Computers flanked one wall, and an empty armoury sat against another. Jo pointed and he followed the direction she indicated to see a small door behind which a narrow staircase led upwards.

"It comes out storm-doors in the back yard," Jo said softly. "They're gone."

"They can't have been gone long!" he fumed, "The cot was still warm! Jenny is alive."

"Those boys upstairs were sent to die, just to give them enough time to get away with her," Jo observed, moving to the computer console.

"Come on," Jethro barked, "we have to go after her!"

"Really, Jethro?" Jo shot back, "because I was just going to give up now. Do you know where they went?"

"Of course not."

"So what is your plan then? Get in the car and drive as fast as possible until we find another vehicle, shoot out the tires and see if Jenny is in it? We've done this your way all along; running around with no plan, breaking down doors, shooting first and asking questions later!"

"So what if we have?" he responded, angrily. "I'll do whatever it takes to get her back. I don't care if it means shooting out the tires on every vehicle on the west coast!"

"Lovely sentiment," she said with a snort, "Though it might be more effective if it were actually possible."

"And I suppose you have a better idea?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, her pretty brown eyes never leaving the computer screen in front of her.

"Care to enlighten me?" he asked angrily.

"Easy there tiger. According to this conversation with the winning bidder, the kidnappers are due to drop Jenny off in Bosnia at 4:00 a.m. tomorrow, our time. That means they must be leaving in the next three hours. I'm betting us showing up accelerated their timeline a bit, but I would guess we're looking for a private departure from an international airport this side of LA at some point in the next three hours. I'll have _Brad _cross-reference private flights, California airstrips, and the destination to see if he can narrow it down while we try to catch up with these assholes."

Gibbs looked at her with a renewed sense of respect, and couldn't help but wonder how she had managed to tease that much information out of the piece of machinery in front of her. He shook his head, then nodded and left her to make the call while he went to get the car.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far guys! Seriously...the end is in sight! Love ya'll!


	8. Chapter 8

Jo's eyes were squeezed shut, and her fingers gripped the edge of her seat with a ferocity that made her knuckles ache.

"Jethro!" she squawked, her right foot involuntarily stretching toward an imaginary brake. "Slow down! For all you know you could be speeding us in the wrong direction!"

There was no response, and just at that second her cell phone filled the car with its melodious alert. She put it on speakerphone.

"Talk to us," she barked.

"It's Brad," the voice on the other end chimed in, and Gibbs rolled his eyes with no lack of ceremony.

"Yes Brad?" Jo answered, sounding patronizing but wanting to reach into the phone, grab Brad by the sweater vest and beat the information out of him.

"I checked out what we've caught on chatter, and it confirms the destination of the sale. Your director fetched quite a pretty price, actually. Anyway, I figured we didn't have time to go through official channels, so I hacked into the homeland security database where all inbound and outbound flights have to be registered. Then I used an algorithm which..."

"Brad, we don't really have time for this either," Gibbs cut him off with a growl too ferocious to ignore. "Just tell us where."

"Well that's the problem. There are three flights which could potentially be..."

"Use your best judgement," Gibbs cut him off again. "Just pick the most likely one and tell us where to go."

Jo looked at Jethro with curiosity. The man had clearly matured since the last time they had worked together. The Jethro she'd known would never have trusted this decision to someone else, but Jethro clearly understood that Brad, having all the data there in front of him, was in a better position to judge the situation in this case. Brad stuttered and stumbled for a moment, then clearly and decisively gave Gibbs a destination, complete with a hangar number, and directions.

"Thank you, Brad," Gibbs replied, pressing the gas pedal to the floor. Ho repeated the sentiment, flipped the phone shut, said a quick prayer to the God of traffic accidents, and slid a new clip into her sig.

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Ahmad sat in a plush leather recliner in the passenger compartment of the private jet they had hired to fly them to the drop point. The pretty American redhead was sleeping in the back of the plane. With their false papers identifying them as husband and wife, it hadn't been difficult to convince the pilot that the woman, who was terrified of flying, had popped a few Gravol and a sleeping pill on the way to the airport. He put his newspaper down in his lap and glanced at his watch. In ten minutes they would taxi onto the runway and take off, and finally be away from the only place where anyone actually gave a damn about his hostage.

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Gibbs got out of the car he'd parked behind a hangar. The police officers who had followed them to the hangar pulled up beside their car and the two agents stepped out.

"The plane you're looking for is on the other side of this hangar," the agent directed, having been mobilized by Jo's badge and quick explanation of the situation. Although he would rather not admit it, Gibbs was glad that Jo had insisted on enlisting the agents she was certain would be assigned to the airport security detail.

"We will cover you on the ground and make sure the plane can't leave," the second agent added, "Can you two handle the plane itself if we get you inside?"

"I am sure we can manage," Gibbs answered gruffly, trying not to let his bad mood make him sound ungrateful. Being here, only moments away from an operation which would either free Jenny or doom them all, terrified him. He wasn't afraid of the impending battle; he had faced more, heavier-armed, and better trained men than these. He was terrified that they would fail, or that they had chosen the wrong plane and had doomed not only Jen but the United States as well. The Intel Jenny had was no doubt enough to provide ample opportunity for a terrorist operation. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that happened. He was already wracked with guilt that Jen had spent this long in the custody of those bastards.

"Jethro," Jo hissed at him, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Whatever you're thinking about, knock it off and let's go get Jenny."

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Jo and Gibbs circled the south end of the hangar and found themselves directly across from the set of stairs leading onto the small jet. Jo crouched in the shadows at the corner of the building while Gibbs moved a few yards closer to the aircraft and took cover behind a luggage train. Thankfully there were no commercial flights leaving from this area of the airport, so there were relatively few civilians in the area.

Jo peered around the corner in the direction of the North end of the hangar, where the two agents had headed. She didn't have to wait long, as an explosion of gunfire erupted from the far end. Immediately three of the terrorists were down, and the rest of the guards took immediately cover and slowly began to make their way toward the gunfire, leaving the outside of the aircraft unguarded. Jo stood and ran to Jethro's position.

Without a word, Gibbs took off toward the plane and Jo stood her ground with her gun ready, covering him. When he reached the stairs, he slid underneath the staircase as Jo levelled her Sig and fired a round into the chest of the man who had come to the door of the aircraft. Gibbs stepped out of his hiding place and covered her journey to join him, then she followed him, then she followed him up the flight of stairs and burst through the door, opening fire immediately. Jo took a round in the shoulder, then shot the assailant's gun-hand just as Gibbs shot him through the forehead. Yet another bullet plugged the bulkhead next to Jo's temple, and she thanked the Lord that whoever had pulled the trigger couldn't aim as well as she could. They had downed four of the terrorists when the final one sent out a shot that scored Jethro's cheek.

"Shit," Gibbs hissed, ducking down as the man, who was hidden behind the second row of passenger seats on the far right of the plane, continued firing wildly at them.

Jo swore under her breath, knowing even as she tucked and rolled down the aisle that it was going to hurt like a bitch. She came out of the roll perfectly, levelled her firearm, and shot the man before he'd even realized she had moved. She rose to her feet, cradling her throbbing arm as she quickly returned to Jethro's side and dragged him behind the nearby curtain and into the steward's area.

"Nice move," Jethro said. "I thought they only pulled stunts like that in the movies."

"Just because you're getting too old for this," she joked, shrugging out of her jacket and examining the wound exiting the back of her shoulder.

"At least it went all the way through," he responded, ignoring her jibe. He ripped open the first aid cabinet on the wall and hastily went to work stopping the bleeding and wrapping gauze around her shoulder. With her good hand she cleaned up the fairly deep would forming a groove in his check. It took a moment to stem the flow of blood, but she got him bandaged up well enough to see them through until the end of their mission.

"Well, well," came a voice from the far end of the passenger compartment they'd just left. "Who is it that I am welcoming to our little party?"

"What the hell is going on?" came another voice, directly after they heard the door to the cockpit being pushed open.

"Change of plans," returned the first voice, "we leave now."

"Mr Smith," came the pilot's voice again. "I cannot agree to fly you anywhere with all this gunfire. Why are your friends armed? What is going on?"

Jo grimaced as she heard a firearm being cocked. It wasn't rocket science to figure out who it was being aimed at.

"Smith?" Gibbs mouthed. Jo just rolled her eyes in disgust. They heard the pilot mumble an angry compliance and enter the cockpit.

"Very interesting choice, Agent Gibbs," the voice came from outside. "After all this time you finally come for her at the last second, and without so much as a SWAT team."

"I didn't know you had her, you bastard," Gibbs growled with a ferocity that made Jo almost pity the man who held Jenny. "Or you would be dead already."

"Now agent Gibbs," the voice scoffed, sounding closer. "There is no need for name calling. I have a job to do just as you do; there is no reason we can't do this with a bit of professional courtesy."

"And who is it that you work for?" Jo interjected, knowing that there was very little keeping Jethro from running out there and ripping the bastard apart with his bare hands.

"A woman! Interesting," the voice responded with a chuckle. "I think you know who planned this operation. It is unfortunate that you heard of it, because it was a brilliant plan."

"Well since we did, and we're here now, why don't you just surrender and five us what we came for?" Jo suggested, not being particularly interested in taking another bullet.

The man laughed. "I see why you brought this woman along, Agent Gibbs, she is quite entertaining. But I don't think so. You see, the fact that there are only two of you here would tell me you are acting without the knowledge of NCIS, which is wise because had Leonard found out, we would have bumped up our timeline and we would not find ourselves in our present dilemma. Vance did warn men, agent Gibbs, that if anyone would figure it out and screw this up, it would be you."

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Gibbs responded, standing with his back to the bulkhead beside the heavy curtain that separated them from the passenger compartment.

"You must be extremely devoted to your director in order to go to this much trouble. Or perhaps you have a particular hatred for Director Vance."

"I certainly do now," Jethro mumbled, listening to the footsteps coming closer up the aisle. "She was my partner."

"In more ways than one if rumours are to be believed," the man commented.

Jethro was about to step out the curtain and take his chances with the asshole face to face when Jo grabbed his arm and shook her head. He watched her with curiosity as she lay face-down at a 45 degree angle from the curtain and held her gun straight out ahead of her in both hands. He realised what she was doing when he noticed the 2-inch gap between the bottom of the curtain and the floor. Jo shook her head. She could only see about two yards down the aisle, and the bastard wasn't yet in her line of sight.

"It seems I am at a disadvantage," Gibbs said, attempting to draw the man closer. "You seem to know a great deal about me, and I don't even know your name."

"You're stalling, agent Gibbs. I wonder why, when I have so few men left. I will humour you, I suppose. My name is Ahmad ab dua Rashid." Footsteps could be heard drawing closer to them.

"Well Ahmad, if you have so much as laid a hand on Jenny I will tear out your heart and shove it down your throat," Gibbs hissed, and Jo believed his threat.

"Don't worry, Jethro," Ahmad laughed, "We were under strict orders not to touch your little girlfriend. I doubt, however, that her purchasers will be so kind. They will probably..."

He never finished the sentence, because as he was speaking, he had stepped into Jo's line of sight. She wasted no time in pulling the trigger, and her bullet flew home and shattered Ahmad's ankle. He swore, lost his balance, and fell just as Jethro burst from behind the curtain into the aisle. Jo expected him to finish off the bastard with a head shot, but instead he disarmed him and knocked him out with the butt of his Sig while Jo put a bullet through the heart of the last of Ahmad's men who tried to come in from the back.

"Jenny must be back there," Jethro said.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Jo responded, motioning toward the prone figure on the floor.

"He's the only one who can implicate Vance," Gibbs explained, already moving toward the tail of the plane.

"You look for Jen," Jo shouted after him, "I'll get the plane stopped and be right behind you."

Gibbs mumbled some agreement and headed through the back door toward the tail, and Jo, cradling her throbbing arm, swung open the hatch and entered the cockpit.

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Gibbs just shook his head at the extravagance of the rear of the plane. A series of small suites that opened off the main hallway ensured the comfort of the passengers on long, overnight flights.

He had flown plenty of places, and he'd done it strapped into the rumble seat of a troop carrier or an F-14, never with a reclining armchair, personal mini-bar, or flat-screen TV.

The first two on either side were empty, with the exception of the odd piece of luggage. When Gibbs slid open the third door on the right side his breath caught in his chest at the pale, red-headed body on the recliner. Gibbs emptied four shots into the chest of the guard standing behind the chair, and he quickly crossed the room to Jenny's side. He wanted to cry when he saw her up close.

She had always been slim and petite, but she had lost weight and looked incredibly frail beneath the thin cotton dress she had on. Her skin was pale, and her breath came in shallow gasps. She was unconscious, but alive.

"We're all good, Gibbs. The plane is returning to the hangar, the agents outside have everything tied up out there and the FBI brought in backup, and they've taken Ahmad into custody. They've agreed to claim this as their own raid off an anonymous tip, with no mention of Jenny," Jo said, coming to the door.

Jethro just nodded and knelt beside the unconscious form.

"Is she...?"

"Alive," he confirmed, "but unconscious."

"They probably drugged her to keep her from struggling or outing them to the pilots," Jo said in disgust. "I'll call an ambulance." She stepped out of the room and took out her cell.

Gibbs brushed a strand of hair off Jen's forehead and kissed the space it created. "Hand in there Jenny," he whispered. "You're safe now."

A/N: Okay, there is yet another chapter to be written, so please let me know what you think! -S


	9. Chapter 9

A.N.: Thanks for the reviews guys. Yes, I know, I haven't been so fast on the updates, but I've got a job, 3 horses, and...oh yeah, University! Anyway, here's the next chapter.

Jo Markham stood in the hall of the hospital with her arm in a sling and a cup of coffee in her good hand. At least, she thought it was supposed to be coffee. They really weren't kidding about the quality of this hospital food, huh? She was watching through the window as Jethro talked to the doctor who'd been put in charge of Jenny's care as soon as they'd arrived off the ambulance. She saw Gibbs nod and thank him as the doctor turned and left the room.

"What's the verdict?" she asked, stepping through the door a moment later. He was standing over Jenny's bed as though he would never let her out of his sight again, and he very well might not.

"He says she'll be fine. The gunshot wounds she suffered at the diner are almost healed, and apparently they were well taken care of to begin with, so there shouldn't be any residual problems with those. He says you were right about her being drugged. Chloroform, I guess. Anyway, he says that they will keep her here overnight to make sure, but she should wake up in a couple of hours and be fine, other than that she could stand to gain some weight and maybe see the light of day," he sounded bitter, furious, and exhausted all at the same time. Jo knew that he was going to have a hard time forgiving himself for leaving her in this situation for so long.

"Gibbs..." Jo started, unsure of how to word what she wanted to say, "You can't blame yourself for this. You didn't know. Hell, I'm in the position to hear about every damn terrorist operation on the continent and I didn't know."

"I should have known," he responded gruffly. "I knew something was...off. I should have just looked at the body that Ducky had."

"Maybe, but you didn't, and that's that. You got her out of there. She's here, and by all accounts she's going to be fine."

"Physically."

"She's strong, Jethro. And she's been in bad situations before. It goes with the job. She'll be fine."

He sighed and nodded. He knew she was right. But he was still terrified that she wouldn't wake up. And part of him was scared of what would happen when she did wake up. Him losing her had shown him how much of a fool he'd been, and how much he still loved her, but he couldn't guarantee that she felt the same way. She might open her eyes and expect to go back to their normal, if slightly atypical Agent/Director relationship. He sat down on the chair at Jenny's bedside and rested his elbows on the edge of the bed.

"You're right. Thanks Jo. Would you book us on a flight back to Washington tomorrow morning?" he asked. Jo hesitated, then nodded and left the room again, leaving Jethro to his thoughts.

He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes and just listening to the sound of Jenny breathing. He knew he didn't really need to stay by her bedside, the doctors had said she would wake up on her own with no problems, but he wanted to be there when she woke up. He wanted to be able to apologize immediately. And see those sparkling blue-green eyes again. He couldn't help but remember all those days lying in bed together after they closed a case, just soaking up as much of each other as they could manage. He thought of days spent walking through tree-lined boulevards in France as they just wandered in each other's arms, stopping when they felt like it at a little sidewalk cafe for dinner. He could remember looking across the table at a much younger Jenny. The differences in her compared to now were incredible. Her hair was much longer, and she dressed in a more casual, flirty way rather than the business attire Jenny outfitted herself in now. She had lacked most of the worry and the stress that could be seen in her face commonly now that she had the weight of an entire agency on her shoulders. But mostly, she had returned his gaze with love, instead of the cold looks Jenny so frequently gave him in anger now that she was responsible for his behaviour.

"Jethro?" came a soft voice. He lifted his head immediately to find himself looking into those eyes he'd just been trying to picture.

"Jen," he breathed in relief, taking one of her hands in his and kissing it softly.

"You...found me? What happened?" she asked, starting to come out of it. "Where am I?"

"At the hospital. We're still in California. We caught on at the last second and managed to get you off the plane they were using to fly you to Europe," he answered. "Ahmad is in custody being transferred to DC, and most of the rest of the cell is dead."

"I knew you would come," she whispered. "They kept saying they were selling me to the highest bidder, but I knew you would come get me first."

"I'm so sorry Jen," he was near tears at the thought of her lying in that cell and just waiting for him to come while he went on with his life and tried not to think about her.

"For what?" she asked, looking up at him with her brows furrowed. She had never been so happy in her life as to open her eyes and see him there, and here he was apologizing.

"We were told you died at the diner, Jen," he explained, watching confusion cloud her features. "Vance was behind the whole thing. We didn't even know we should be looking for you."

"How did you know?" she asked. She wanted to ask a million questions. The director part of her brain wanted to know all the details; how Vance had pulled it off, who was behind the terrorist cell, and what their goals had been. But the other side of her wanted to hear Jethro say how he had never given up on her and had always known deep down that she wasn't dead. Of course, that was mostly sentimental bull, so she really wanted to know how Jethro had managed to find her.

"Jo Markham," he answered, focusing on the fingers of her hand that he was holding. "She's been working at the Pentagon doing God only knows what, and she came to me with photos picked up on chatter. They were the same photos that the cell was transmitting to their potential buyers. But Jen, I..."

"Jethro," she said, placing a finger over his lips. She hated to hear him break his own rule. She needed to think of him as the strong man she knew he was, and not see him break down like this over her. "Listen to me. You had no way of knowing that I wasn't killed in that diner. Hell, I thought I was killed in that diner. With Vance covering it up, I'm damn lucky that Jo came along when she did. You have nothing to apologize for. The fact that you managed to find me on such a tight schedule is amazing, and I'm here, completely unharmed. I think we can count this one as a success."

"I can't take credit for figuring out you were alive, Jen, but I thought of you every day since the diner. I visited your...the...the Jane Doe's tombstone every day. It's quite lovely. You should see about getting one the same when you actually do kick it," he joked, enjoying the flash in her eyes. "But seriously, Jenny, I missed you."

"I've missed you too, Jethro. But I wasn't lying before. I really did know you were going to get me out of this. I just wish I'd been conscious at the time to see your guns blazing and your kick-ass marine attitude," she responded in turn. "But catch me up on....everything."

"Your agency is still alive and kicking, and scuttlebutt says that round about tomorrow afternoon the position of Director will be opening up again," he said. "Mike Franks came in right after the fire fight and finished off a few of the bad guys you'd left bleeding in there, and then he high-tailed it out of there. Tony and Ziva caught up with you right after, and I have no idea how Tony missed your pulse, but they called it in and said you were dead. Ambulance came which, as it turned out, wasn't an ambulance after all. Vance ID'd a Jane Doe as you, ordered Ducky to sign that it was you, and had it buried, as you, in a big state funeral. He told Ducky that your body was being autopsied by a special investigation team out of the Pentagon, and that your body would be switched into the casket before burial. Ducky didn't like it, but orders are orders, and dead Directors found in diners do tend to invoke some suspicion on the part of the government, so he figured it was legit."

"And what about Vance?" Jenny asked, angry.

"I called my team and told them to make sure Vance didn't leave his office. McGee made sure no communication lines go in or out, and Tony and Ziva are keeping him under wraps. He'll have a long night to think about what he's done before we get there in the morning. I didn't tell the team you were alive though. I made the call before we raided the plane, and I wasn't sure of what I'd find. I didn't want Vance to get wind of the plan going bad and bailing though," Gibbs explained.

"So what did you tell them to make them hold their director hostage?" Jenny asked with interest. He just stared at her. "Oh, right," she snorted, "You wouldn't have had to tell them anything. You just told them what to do and that was good enough. What on earth do you do to get that kind of respect from your subordinates?"

"You used to respect me like that, Jen," he said softly.

"I still do respect you, Jethro. I just choose to make informed decisions."

"You used to love me, too, Jen," he said, meeting her eyes with his steel blue ones and holding her gaze.

"I still do love you, Jethro," she whispered, not looking away. "I never stopped. I just forgot for a while how much I need you."

Gibbs leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss against her lips. She responded heartily, and they broke apart only when breath became necessary.

"I'm glad you're not dead," he commented, his forehead resting against hers. Jenny just smiled, thinking that perhaps this whole hostage thing wasn't so bad overall.

"I'm glad you're not dead too," came a familiar voice from the doorway. A female voice, with the slightest hint of an accent.

"Jo Markham!" Jenny exclaimed as the girl walked over and sat on the opposite side of the bed from Jethro, gingerly hugging Jenny with one arm. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Your agent didn't cover me, and I got shot," she answered, playing it up and rubbing her shoulder carefully.

"I shot the guy who did it," Gibbs protested.

"Well ya should have shot him _before _he shot _me_!" Jo laughed.

"Or maybe you should have stayed out of it and left it to those of us who can take care of ourselves," Gibbs jibbed, knowing that he owed Jo everything, and that without her he would never have found Jen.

"Clearly," Jo snorted, motioning to the bandage on his cheek that was covering the stitches. "You don't belong in that category either. Anyway, I just came in here to say that I booked three seats on a flight to DC in the morning. Although I did it the same was as you did...by calling in favours. It won't be the most comfortable flight in history, but there aren't many easy ways for a shot-up crew like us to fly anywhere with a woman who is supposed to be dead."

"Fair enough," Jenny laughed.

"I'll let you two catch up," said Jo. "I've got a few calls to make to see what my people are up to. And Jethro, I'm going to make sure the SecNav is at NCIS tomorrow when we show up to talk to Vance."


	10. Chapter 10

A.N.: Okay, for those of you who have this story on your alert, I JUST posted Ch. 9 before this, so if you got here through an e-mail link, please make sure you've read Ch. 9 before you read this chapter. Thanks! -S

Jenny took Jethro's hand and stepped out of the dark sedan which had pulled up directly in front of the doors to NCIS. She had dressed that morning in a suit that Jo had picked up for her the previous afternoon, in a deep chocolate brown. It consisted of shoes by Marciano, and the pencil skirt and jacket were Versace. The blouse she wore was a local boutique brand, and was a lovely teal colour. Her hair was pulled back in a twist, and she wore dark aviator glasses which served two purposes; to disguise her identity, and to hide the dark circles under her eyes that the makeup she had donned couldn't quite cover. She tucked her arm into Jethro's and he led her into the building, bringing her through security as a guest. Jo followed them while speaking softly into her blackberry, wearing dark jeans, her Puma sneakers, and a satin blouse in a deep purple. Her dark hair, as always, was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had allowed it to remain in loose curls which trailed down her back. They stepped into the elevator, and the doors slid closed. Jenny was glad to see that the three of them were alone in the elevator.

"I'm interested to hear why the security guards barely question you on your "guest", Jethro," Jenny said as the doors slid shut. He mumbled a non-committal answer, although she was certain it had much to do with the frequency with which he had mysterious red-headed visitors. She found herself smiling inwardly when she noticed how he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She had gone against her better judgement and left one more button than she should have undone, hoping for this exact situation.

"You're sure you're feeling okay?" he asked. She sighed. So he wasn't staring at her for the reason she'd been hoping, but rather because he was concerned. Did she really look that bad?

"I'm fine, Jethro," she growled. "But it's good to hear I don't look up to this."

"Jen, you look fine. You look like you never left. I'm just..." he was at a loss. She met his eyes and nodded, letting him off the hook. Just before the door slid open he gently squeezed her hand, releasing her arm and placing a hand on the small of her back, allowing her to walk out ahead of him. She needed to reassert control, and being led around by him, even symbolically, wasn't going to help her case.

Jo took the phone away from her ear and pressed a button, ending the conversation.

"SecNav should be here in ten," she said. "You've got some time for the big reveal to your people."

"Boss!" exclaimed a voice from the stairs. He looked up to see a certain Italian agent on his way down. "Good to see you. Where have you been?"

"A better question would be where are _you _supposed to be, Dinozzo?" Jethro asked.

"Well I...I called McGee up and he's with Ziva now. I was going to go get a coffee and hit the vending machine..." Tony struggled to explain.

"I think a better question would be the status of your prisoner, Agent Dinozzo," Jenny's soft voice cut through the bullpen like a knife, and Gibbs had never seen Tony's head spin around so quickly.

"Director?" Tony's voice was quiet, as though in disbelief, as he relived that moment he'd discovered her in a pool of her own blood in that damned diner that still haunted his nightmares. "But you...you had no pulse."

"Well I have one now, Tony, so would you please answer my question?" she responded gently.

"Director Va...I mean, um...Assistant Director Vance?" Tony seemed unsure. Gibbs nodded for him to continue, and Tony stuttered on, "Is in his...your...office, ma'am. We did as Gibbs instructed and made sure he didn't have any weapons, and he hasn't left the sofa since yesterday afternoon, except on supervised bathroom breaks. Trust me, those are not fun. But let me tell you he is NOT happy. He keeps threatening all kinds of interesting things, and I think Ziva took it as a personal challenge when he said that she couldn't keep him in there forever."

"Thank you, Tony," Jenny said, stepping up to him as he hit the last stair. "Don't worry about the pulse, Tony. Anyone could have missed it."

"It's a probie mistake, director," Tony replied, ashamed. He gave her a quick, embarrassed hug, then looked back at her, "It's good to see you alive. Where the hell have you been if not in that casket we saw buried?"

"I'll explain it all once everyone arrives and we go upstairs," she answered him, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Would you please go down and get Abby and Ducky? I want them here for what's about to happen."

Tony nodded and headed toward the elevator. "The shit is going to hit the fan," he whispered, as he passed Gibbs, and he got a customary slap on the back of the head for his efforts. It didn't stop him from looking Jo up and down appreciatively, and wondering how many firearms she had hidden on her body. He must have been staring at the Sig Sauer service weapon strapped to her hip, because she looked at him sharply.

"I only need the one," Jo said with her soft drawl, a smile playing in the corners of her mouth. Tony didn't doubt her.

"Dinozzo!" Gibbs bellowed, and Tony ducked and double-timed it toward the elevator, muttering a "sorry boss" along the way.

Jenny shook her head and laughed at the interplay. Gibbs grinned at the sound of her laugh. That was the sound that meant everything was right with his world. Although, in this case, not quite everything. It would be perfect as soon as that bastard upstairs had paid for what he'd done to his Jenny. If she hadn't specifically warned him about it on the way there, he would already be up there beating the living shit out of Vance. But this was Jen's show to run; her justice. He would let her do it her way.

The two of them made their way up into the reception area outside of Jenny's office while Jo waited in the bullpen to bring the SecNav up when he arrived. Jen chose to stand, while Gibbs took a seat on the desk that Cynthia used to use. Jen noticed the distinct absence of Cynthia's personal items, the photos of her family, the African violet that she'd had for two years, much to Jenny's chagrin since she herself couldn't keep a fern alive for more than a week.

"She left," Gibbs answered the unspoken question, following her gaze. "When you...died...she said it just wouldn't be the same for her here now."

"I'll have to give her a call in the morning," Jen said, resolutely.

"Visit might be better," he challenged. She nodded. A high-pitched shriek announced the arrival of Abby, and Jenny barely managed to brace herself before the goth hit her like, well, like a bat out of hell. She grimaced as Abby's tight hold on her pressed against the not-quite-healed bullet wound in her upper arm.

"Director," Abby gushed, "I can't believe you're really alive! I mean, I can, I didn't really believe that you were dead, but then, I never believe anyone important is really dead, including Elvis, so I really can't believe that I'm right in this case...but here you are!"

"Yes, Abby, here I am, and it's good to see you too," Jenny answered with a smile. Abby smiled back, tears gathering in her eyes, and she hugged the director again on impulse. Jenny met Jethro's eyes over Abby's shoulder and returned his grin.

"Jennifer," Ducky said, announcing his presence as he arrived at the top of the stairs, having been unable to keep up to the frantic girl. He sounded relieved, but also defeated, as though he had almost been hoping he was right about the body.

"Doctor Mallard," she said, releasing Abby and smiling at the Scot. He crossed the room and engulfed her in a careful embrace, unsure of her response.

"Jennifer I really must apologize," he said. "I am so sorry. If I'd just warned Jethro that the body I examined wasn't you, he might have known earlier..."

"Really, Ducky, it doesn't matter. It's in the past. He found me. I'm here. This is Vance's fault, not anyone else's, so don't beat yourself up over it," she answered kindly. Gibbs wasn't so sure yet whether he could forgive his old friend for what had happened, but Jenny really was absolving everyone of guilt over this. She was just glad to be back, and she wasn't looking to punish everyone she knew to get revenge for her imprisonment.

At that moment they were joined in the office by Jo, the SecNav, and two MPs.

"Jennifer Shepherd," the SecNav said slowly, looking from her to Jo. "Agent Markham told me I needed to be here, but I see now this is a great deal more important than I thought. Now, being one of the few people who knows how you actually died, I am rather confused as to how you managed to survive it. I knew you didn't die in the house fire like everyone believed, but I sure as hell thought you died in that diner."

Jen cringed inwardly at the mention of her father's house, burned to the ground with all her belongings. There was a fortune in shoes alone in that building, not to mention the irreplaceable family heirlooms like her father's desk. Jethro had told her about the fire on their trip from California, and she had been angry, but she couldn't complain when it had been done to take care of a target who she had been responsible for killing years before.

"Yes Sir. I will explain, but I think it should be done with the involvement of acting Director Vance," she said, composing her features.

"I would agree," the SecNav said, although he had no idea in what context "acting director Vance" would be involved.

Gibbs opened the door and found the scene much as Tony had described it. Vance was sitting on the sofa, McGee had turned around one of the conference chairs and was watching Vance. Ziva leaned against the desk, playing with her knife. Gibbs grinned at the Mossad agent's pose.

"Agent Gibbs," Vance bellowed, standing. "Call off your damn agents and explain your absence!"

"He was in California," Jenny said, stepping through the door followed by the rest of the small group, "rescuing me from your terrorists."

"Director Shepherd!" McGee exclaimed, standing in surprise. Ziva's eyes widened for a split second, but her face was soon a mask of indifference again, save for the small smile in the corners of her mouth. She must really be in Mossad mode.

"Shalom, Jen," was all she said with a nod, echoing the sentiment of when she'd first arrived at NCIS. Jen returned her nod.

"Sit down," Jen ordered Vance. He stared at her defiantly. She gave him a moment, but her patience easily wore thin, and she lowered her voice and barked, "**SIT. DOWN.**" Vance sat.

She, Jethro, and Jo proceeded to explain their respective knowledge on the situation. The SecNav sat quietly at the conference table and listened to their accounts, punctuated occasionally by half-hearted denials by Vance. After they finished their account, and Gibbs mentioned that Ahmad was in FBI custody, and would corroborate Vance's involvement, attention turned to the SecNav when he cleared his throat and stood.

"You disgust me," he said in a low voice, looking at Vance. "I can't believe someone sympathetic to a terrorist cell on our own turf managed to get a position this far up the food chain. Hell, that I put him there myself! Why didn't you just give them the information yourself?"

"They didn't want information," Jenny answered. "Either because Vance had already told them everything they needed to know, or because they really had no interest in state secrets. They seemed kind of a small-scale operation who just happened to get lucky and find me. In any case, this plan was put in motion to fund the terrorists, not to provide them with Intel. They used me to entice buyers, because if they just sold the information internationally then it would get back to someone here that we had a leak. Vance wanted to fund the operation without putting himself in the line of fire."

"Well it didn't work out as well as he planned, thanks to Agent Markham, and Agent Gibbs," the SecNav said, turning to the two MPs, "arrest the asshole and let's get out of here. Director Shepherd, I am going to temporarily reinstate you at present, and when you actually officially exist again, I'll make it permanent. Welcome back." The MPs obeyed immediately, and Vance silently allowed them to handcuff him and lead him out. Perhaps he'd decided not to say anything else until he got a lawyer. Gibbs wished he himself was doing the interrogation.

"Thank you, Sir," Jenny responded, barely keeping the emotion out of her voice.

"I'm going to put Morrow on this case," the SecNav continued on his way out the door, "He'll be just as bloody pissed off about this as I am." Jenny just shook her head as the aroma of cigar smoke wafted up into the office, which must have come from him lighting up on the way down the stairs.

"Well," said Ziva, breaking the silence, "That certainly explains why you wanted us to hold Vance."

"Definitely," McGee echoed. The two of them, Tony, Ducky, and Abby all gathered around Jenny to do what Gibbs had spent the previous afternoon and evening doing; convincing themselves that she was real and in fact, alive. Jo walked over and joined Gibbs where he stood, holding up the wall.

"They're glad to see her back," Jo observed, "Their family is whole again."

"I never thought I would see her again," Jethro said softly. "Jo, I have to apologize. I know I was difficult...hell, I was damn near impossible to work with the last few days. I just want to say...thank you. I could never have found her without you."

"You don't have to thank me, Gibbs," Jo laughed. "I didn't want her falling into their hands either. When those came across on chatter, I picked up the case immediately. Not only because I had a personal interest in getting her back, but also because I knew that I could get you involved, and you would stop at nothing to find her. I knew you would be a royal pain in the ass, but I also knew you would be the best shot she had."

Jethro just nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off Jenny. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders slumped slightly. He needed to get her home and to bed.

"Still," Gibbs insisted, "she owes you her life. And I owe you mine, too."

Jo just looked at him questioningly, raising a single brow.

"As dumb as it sounds, it wasn't really life without her."

"Gibbs," she answered after a moment, "When you're with her, do you think about Shannon?" He started hearing the name of his late wife.

"I never really forget her," he answered after a moment of thought. "She was my first love, and the mother of my daughter. But Jenny was the one who first let me know that I didn't have to be defined by what happened to them. She didn't know about them when we were together, but she made me realise that I really could love again. And no, when I'm with Jenny, I only think about Jenny."

"I'm glad," Jo answered. She had met Jenny and Jethro when she was 18, in Paris. She was working for special ops. She had been hand-picked for it for her brilliant mind and extraordinary skills. She'd been working on a case in the Paris field office, her first case, actually, and Jethro had taken her under his wing. He always said that he thought Kelly would have been just like her had she grown up, although he would never have let her do such a dangerous job. At the time, she'd laughed and told him that his daughter would have never turned out like her, and it was lucky for him.

"I love her Jo," he said. She snorted.

"I know that. You've loved her since day one, just like she has too. You've both been stubborn and stupid about it since then though. But for Christ sakes, Jethro, tell her, not me. I have to go, though. My team is shipping out in the morning and I still have to pack and get my briefing."

"Thanks again, kiddo. If there's anything I can do to thank you, just let me know."

"I guess I could let you and Jenny buy me lunch when I get home," she laughed.

"Done," he answered.

"And Gibbs," she said, "Cut the team some slack, would you? I would imagine they feel badly enough already for their part in her kidnapping, without you making it worse." He studied her for a minute, and then nodded sharply.

She grinned, turned on her heels and headed for the door, sparing a quick wave for Jenny. Tony saw her leaving and ran to catch up with her, following her out. Ziva caught Gibbs' eye and wisely chose to grab McGee and Abby and escort them out of the office, using some excuse, and leaving only Ducky leaning against the conference table looking between Gibbs and Jenny.

"I can't even tell you how mortified I am at my mistake, Jennifer. Had I known...I can't believe that I trusted Director Vance with something so ridiculous as body swapping, without so much as questioning it. I thought I was a better judge of character. I would certainly understand if..."

"Ducky," Jenny interrupted gently, "It's okay. I'm only glad to be back. You didn't do anything wrong."

"It's not just on you, Duck. I could have looked at the body down there. Tony could have caught the pulse, and he and Ziva really shouldn't have left her alone at all. And while we're at it, Mike never should have left her alone in that diner," Jethro added, meeting his friend's eyes genuinely.

"And I should have killed that bitch in Paris," Jenny added softly.

"Well thank you for understanding, but regardless, I think it will be a while before I forgive myself for this one," Ducky said. "But I will leave you two be."

"Thank you Dr. Mallard," Jen said, allowing him to leave. He walked through the office doors, closing the great wooden door behind him and leaving the two of them truly alone for the first time since before her trip to California.

Jethro walked across the room to stand behind Jenny, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She sighed, and grasped his folded arms in her hands.

"I'm worried about him," she said softly.

"He'll be all right. He needs to come to terms with his part in this. I'm worried about you," he said.

"Me?" she laughed. "I was just rescued from a terrorist cell who was trying to sell me to the highest bidder. I couldn't be better!"

"You look exhausted. You haven't had natural sleep in a long time, and you need a good meal." She nodded.

"I could use another shower too. That hot water feels good against my muscles. I'm still stiff and sore," she answered thoughtfully. It was no doubt a combination of her injuries and the lack of exercise she'd had.

"Well, let me make a proposal," he said, releasing her and beginning to gently rub her shoulders, "We'll pick up something to eat on the way to my house, you can take a shower, or a good soak in the bathtub, and then I'll give you a massage. And then you can get a good night's sleep."

She heartily agreed, with a brief moment of bitterness due to the fact that she couldn't go to her house even if she wanted to. She decided to take it as a blessing, and use it as an excuse to go home with Gibbs as often as possible.

"I just have one question before we go," she said, for the first time taking a look around what used to be her office. He turned to her with a brow raised in question.

"Why boxing?"

A.N.: Okay, clearly I had a case of diarrhoea of the keyboard during this chapter. I hope it's long enough to keep you all satisfied for a bit, because next week I have 2 term papers due (which I really should start) and then exams are starting, so...

Anyway, I digress. Reviews are most welcome.


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